


The Only Exception

by Dismayhem



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Band Fic, F/M, Fame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-28 02:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13894380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dismayhem/pseuds/Dismayhem
Summary: Poor Maka Albarn has only ever wanted some stability in her life; Soul Evans has only ever wanted acceptance; However when their chance at happiness is cut off by Soul's decision to run away Maka is left heartbroken, honoring him through music. After seven long years of heartache, Soul returns only to tilt her scales. And she's having a hard time forgiving. (Band/Fame AU)





	1. Mirrors

Chapter 1: Mirrors

Looking at herself in the mirror takes her back, even if the mirror always displays her current self, she is still reminded of from how far she’d come. 

A broken childhood is usually never where a music star starts unless they’re singing or rapping about it hardcore, but alas, a drunken father always dozing and wallowing off in his regrets, plus a mother she only remembers from pictures and carefully selected memories is all she has to offer her fans when it came to family. She tells them stories about her father who still lives in their childhood home in Nevada and about a mother so distant and mysterious that only god could possibly know her current location.

Of course she adores her fans. Every music star says it, but honestly. None of them would be where they are without a fan-base. 

Still, they like to become so attached to her and her life that they want to know everything about it. She remains secret on the full story, only mentions that she’s an only child, her mother left them at a young age, and that her father is who she counts as family to return to constantly. After all, he raised her as well as he could for a depressed and alcoholic man. It satisfies enough, and they get hints of how her mother was from small approved comments and song lyrics. Maka might just be scarred from the trauma it all brought her though, yet she refuses to share such sensitive information to the public. They’ll only crave more. She doesn’t think it’s a good plan to share more, both for the medias reasons and her privacy.

She left it all behind, no further pondering into the memories needed, thank you very much. The experience allowed her to grow and everything borne from it is in her past.

Her father who made the mistake of cheating on her mother while drunk. Her mother leaving because she couldn’t be the mom that Maka needed or the wife that Spirit loved. Quite possibly her soulmate leaving her at a time of need. The list can go on with her exaggerated teenager angst. 

The change was good. Needed. Forgive and forget. As Marie (Her mother figure aunt) liked to say. Maka is not a person who can easily forgive, not anymore at least, but she will try very hard to forget and move on. These traumas are weights. They’re unhealthy.

She used to curse her father and wanted to think that he would’ve cheated without the alcohol based off of how much of a womanizer he had a reputation of being in high school and shortly after. For the long part of her teen years she rebelled and shamed her father because he “chased Mama away.” She didn’t realize that her mother wanted to leave them much sooner than that event though. 

Maka was a mistake. A product of one of those nights where a young women drinks and ends up in somebody else's bed for the night. She doesn’t blame her father anymore, she knows the feeling of just wanting someone to love that deeply, that desperately, when the one you thought you could trust leaves. However at the time of his crime, Mama was only physically present. Not emotionally enough to love him, while her mind was constantly thinking of other, more important things that she could be doing sans a husband and daughter. 

By the time that Maka understood her mother enough for who she really was, she thought it was too late to sew these wounds she dug so deep. The short years she has of college plus the relationships she developed while attending it taught her that it's best to forgive and move on in the end, and it doesn't always mean that you need to forget or give up. It’s a skill she is still practicing. 

So she reconnected with her roots to both seek and give forgiveness. She forgave her mother, who admitted herself to Maka in person that she never wanted a child or marriage. Mama threw in things about how raising Maka changed her mind on how much she could love and care for her child whilst crying her eyes out for forgiveness back when Maka graduated with her psychology degree at twenty two, but mentioned that the love was not enough for her spirit which craved to run freely, nor the husband who adored her. It was suffocating, she had planned to leave, all she needed was a valid enough reason, “and when Spirit ‘cheated’, I took that chance. I’m sorry but I couldn’t look back.” 

She finally had learned the true story, and instead of trying to form a mediocre bond, they got matching tattoos as a sort of makeshift bond. Maka has the word angel in between her index and middle finger with the left wing before the words whilst her mother has the word ‘wings’ with the right wing at the end. It meant that Maka was her Mama’s angel and that Mama roamed freely on her wings. It left her heartbroken, she cried and cried but that day it felt more like cries of relief than all else. Communication is still not her mothers forte. A postcard here and there is what she manages with though.

She’s got daddy issues, she’s got mommy issues, whatever press want to call it. But, she’s over her parents mistakes, or that’s what she likes to say and convince herself of anyway. She can't possibly hate them, but the trauma remains laced into who she is. She won’t acknowledge it though. She’s dedicated enough of her lyrics to them as a whole, and the problems she developed from them including her mother’s fear of commitment and her father’s “genetic” depression spells. 

She likes to say that she’s happy now, and that much like her father she only feels sad some days because of genes, because when she looks at herself in the mirror she sees Maka Cassiopeia ‘Kama’ Albarn, (code name Grigori,) front woman for the band Spartoi and in no possible place to be sad, after all, others have worse. Who could complain when sweet memories inspire her? The band's name and her stage name for crying out loud! Spartoi, the name of her clique of childhood friends, and the only sweet memory she has left of her childhood. Grigori, angel in Japanese, a nickname so simply in her mother's native tongue but also the name she holds dearest to her heart because it’s how her mother addressed her when she still cared. 

The name Kama from her solo career is an anagram of her real name that her father pointed out to her when she was twelve and thinking of a stage name, but back then this life was just a fantasy fueled by compliments of her voice from the boy next door. However it also resonated with her long period of teenage angst upon realizing that it meant “scythe” in Japanese. She always laughs when she recalls how “edgy” it seemed. Her teen self is raging again.

She can say now after a long time of chasing some ghost women who might as well have been an imagination (her mother), that she trusts and is connected more to her recovering father -well in the little ways that Maka can show trust and bond nowadays. He’s found love with a women she still believes is too, explicit for him. But he claims that Blair makes him happy and after meeting her on countless events she’s agreed that her father admires her in a way he can’t verbally explain. His sea glass eyes- identical to her own- tell the story for her though. It’s strange what the years can hold for you. She is a victim of that statement.

A knock on her stage door interrupts her thinking and then she is faced with her best friend, ex boyfriend, and basically someone she considers a brother, Blake Barrett Hoshi, better known by his stage name Black Star. 

“You ready pigtails?” He mocks her, she grins and takes his hand as he helps her out of the spin chair. After a quick hug she nods.

“As I’ll ever be,” she messes with her freshly styled  hair as they walk out of the room and towards the stage set, an action practiced whenever she’s anxious and Blake fully aware of the quirk notices it too. 

“Lying to me now? I’m hurt.” He creates a faux crying face. His commentary earns a punch in his buff bicep, but for all the martial arts training it still pays off with a small wince from Blake because Maka has her own years of martial arts practice to make her punch bite. Afterall it’s where they met at age seven.

“I’m not lying.” She defends, “I always get nervous before a show, but it doesn’t mean I’m not ready to face that screaming crowd.” The crowd above them is indeed stomping their feet and screaming her name, the bands name and its members as the timer for the concert turns down to ten minutes. This means that she has to meet the rest of her band at the lower stage platforms now. This is probably why Blake came for her, she did lose track of time, and Blake always seems to annoy her back into schedule. It's usually flawless and like clockwork, it doesn't need constant check in to know that it's working correctly, but when her mind lies elsewhere, she loses her iron thought train. Often left stuck in a mood like one of the clocks hands.

Blake leads her there with small comments about their newest single and talk of his obnoxious shows where he’ll stage dive whilst inside a giant hamster ball or do a back-flip off the sound systems. Based on how close their relationship is, you can just assume that they work and put out great music together. The newest is to drop next week, at midnight on Friday, unannounced. However, according to friends and betas, it’s their best duet yet. Blake's intricate beats just go perfectly with her amazing voice. 

However, he is not in her band, nor are any of her immediate and closest friends. She wanted them to pursue their own musical talents, it’s paid off for Kid, and Blake. Camellia is doing fine as an award winning actor. Liz and Patty were better off as part time designers and models, so really, most of her friends are living good and comfortably like herself. Maybe, she always hopes anyway because he still comes into play. She looks down and messes with her hair more, black dots clouding her vision until the memory flashes in front of her. Unwanted like always.

“Tell me the truth! Where is he?” Maka questions him for the third time that week, still unwilling to accept that Sullivan James Evans, or Soul to her, had ran from home on his own accord and his father’s detective friends had yet to find him. Two weeks into the case and the farthest they got was a purchased train ticket to Los Angeles. Then in such a big city, the trail gets lost.

“I told you that I don’t know! He left sometime in the middle of the night.” Fury shoots through Wes’s eyes. 

“Don’t play coy. You can’t possibly tell me that he didn’t at least visit you before he left either! I wanna know where he is and you’re the only other one that he trusted enough to have mention details to.” She clenches her fist to her sides. Anger rushing in her veins because she knows he's right. Soul trusted her, but clearly not enough. She's heard nothing, it's both annoying and painful. Especially after what had happened between them nights before.

Instead of making it obvious to Wesley, she gives a death glare whilst trying to read Wes’s pale worried expression before finally her vision turned away and she regained some trust in the young adult. Yelling at Wes won't bring Soul back to ease the pain. His eyes still scan for an answer, like he wants to pry it from her and she hates how his eyes just read her like that, such a pretty wine color turned cold and harsh as he scowled it out of her. His once gentle eyes burn her alive.

“I don’t know either Wes!” She cries, tears long ago streaming from her face as intimidation strikes her. She shakes. Wes has always been the more diplomatic of the two, so instead of yelling at her in return, his face softens into a frown and he hugs her. She melts into him, sobbing because Soul wouldn’t leave her all alone like this, he promised. He wouldn’t and she knows it. He'll be back soon, she reassures herself. 

“He'll come back.” She states, but it sounds more like a question that an argument.

“I don’t know, I just hope wherever he is, it’s safe….” Wes mutters into her hair, he still stands over a foot taller than her, so he’s hunched pretty bad. She stands on her tippie toes to try and help him out a little.

“We all do.” James Evans, Soul’s father adds, startling them. Maka nods at the man whom she has no respect for at all but surely he’s hurt by this news too and needs the empathy. 

Their conversation ended when James borrowed Wes for a talk that was most certainly not about Soul. Anger bubbles at the thought of such a conceited man to date. She hated him. His name disgusted her but she remembers her longest depression spells coming from Soul’s disappearance and even more so when the time passed and he didn’t return. Did James ever care? Maybe she’ll never know.

Maka shook her head at the sudden memory and took deep breaths to recompose herself. She long ago decided that wherever Sullivan is, he’s safe and well. She got over it, she claims. Even if deep down she knows that he made that choice to run even after promising to stay by her side always, after agreeing that they’d get through all obstacles together. After claiming that he loved her.

He’s alive, that much was confirmed to her from him, it was the last words she had heard from him—err, read—a small message on a postcard sent to her weeks after running held her answer, but he never gave any other information nor did he come back in days, a week, or a month, much less ever. Miserably months turned to their entire senior year. She graduated alongside Blake and Kid. The postcard was never turned in to the police, she kept it to herself because sometimes, it served as a reminder of how shocking it was to see how his family seems so unfazed by Soul leaving, like he never meant anything. Wes told her that he got one too, but for them it said. “I'm done. I’ve had enough of this. You might not hear from me again. Bye.” Maka still wonders why he sugar coated her letter when the damage was already done, mentioning his love for her and teasing at a return. It doesn't matter anymore. She escaped their her hell and promised to herself that he made his choice, and that she no longer cared. 

Hands on her shoulders bring her back to the present.

“Something the matter?” Kid asks as he reaches to fix her hair that’s in a wavy style. She shakes her head and smiles before hugging him tightly and kissing his cheek as greeting. She only now realizes that the timer has reached five minutes and that she needs to go meet with Kim, Kilik, and Harvar. Now. They’ll be waiting for her, worried. 

“I need to take off, thanks Kiddo.” She waves her boyfriend goodbye before running to the stage room. Feeling his and Blake’s worried eyes on her back. When she reaches and pushed the door open she's greeted by a tall man always in the weirdest hairstyles and the rest of her band's smiles of relief.

“Finally the princess arrives,” Ox Ford sarcastically teases. She glares at Kim’s annoyance of a boyfriend and finds her place in between Harvar and Kim. It takes a minute to adjust the height slightly since she decided against the heels.

“Why’s he still in here?” She finally asks, receiving a pout from Ox as he kisses Kim goodbye and heads off the rising platform. Their fans scream and cheer as the timer counts from sixty seconds. 

“Let’s rock n’ roll.” Kilik says as he sits himself on the drum kit, Kim with her hands placed accordingly on her bass and Harvar already fingering out the pattern to ‘Ain’t It Fun’ from their third album. She nods in agreement, the adrenaline rushing through her veins. 

She’s here, she made it all on her own, even when the people she cared for, loved, and trusted the most disappeared. She got through it and now this is her life. Singing her emotions out and dancing with her fans to songs full of lyrics that once made her cry. 

And she no longer must ponder or need to check a mirror to recall and appreciate that much of her life. 

Kim tosses her her signature leather jacket with pins and patches of their albums, the bands logo, gold stars representing awards they win and her name on the bicep of her sleeve, ‘Grigori’. Much like an athlete's Letterman jacket, every member in the band has one. All of them have different colors to match their aesthetics. Kim’s is pastel pink and mint with zippers in different nonuniform places. Kilik has a light olive jacket with dark green flames surrounding the mouths of his sleeves, around the whole thing are subtle yellow and orange highlights that’ll glow neon just like the flames in UV light.. Harvar has a white jacket with a high neck. Maka’s has black sleeves with a crimson red body. She remembers spending an entire day driving around to find them when Harv came up with the idea. 

When they’re all in place seconds later she gives a thumbs up to the director and the platform rises.

The platform begins to rise slowly. The lights inside the stadium shut off like a power outage, the crowd goes silent. Kim and Harvar scurry to connect their stringed instruments to the amps.

Maka can feel her pulse in her ears, her hearts beating but she still speaks into her microphone, smile wide on her face. Continuing the cut off countdown.

“5-4-3-2-1,” on cue the light powers on so that the stage is lit. The screen behind them zooms onto Maka’s face as she introduces herself to the crowd. A normal smile and “Hi!” However though she adds. 

“I'm sure most of you know that when we’re in Nevada we add something special to the list because this is our home. So Las Vegas. Are you ready to cry hard dance harder!?” She lets them cheer before asking for their attention.

“We're gonna play a song off of next year's new album. How's that sound?” The crowd is wild. She smiles into her mic. The news finally being out there and their reaction, it lights her up.

“Usually I don't appreciate phones at my shows, but please. Record. Share. I don't want the word to spread among this room. No. I want it around the world. So let's kick tonight off upbeat!” She jumps to hype the crowd. The beat starts, she points her microphone towards the crowd so that they can sing the first line. 

Voices shout back at her, “I don't mind!” 

She sings through her smile, “Letting it down easy, but just give it time.” She dances around the stage, “if it don't hurt now, but just wait, just wait a while. You're not the big fish in the pond no more.” She raises her hands as they sing back, “You are what they're feeding on!” 

She does her signature dance moves as she continues, “So what are you gonna do when the world don't orbit around you?” a faux frown face takes her face, “So what are you gonna do when the world don't orbit around you?” She shakes her hips, “Sing it with me now!” 

“Ain't it fun,”  
“Living in the real world!”  
“Ain't it good!”  
“Being all alone!” 

She takes a small second to smile and look at them all dancing, smiling, cheering their names. 

This sense of absolute timeless nostalgia with a rush of fresh changes almost every time she stands on this exact stage. The way that these people began supporting her when she was a broke college kid singing at bars. How she grew and formed Spartoi after her one solo album. These people so in love with her voice, she was idolized by many of them. They adored her and she did them without letting the fame get to her head. She was a better person because of them. They helped her grow.

“Where you're from. You might be the one who's running things. Well you can ring anybody's bell and get what you want.” She rings a fake bell.

“See it's easy to ignore trouble. When you're living in a bubble,” 

The song continues with them clapping on command, dancing and cheering when Kim plays an awesome base solo. She points the mic towards them when they reach the bridge. 

Together they sing lyrics she remembers writing in Harv's basement years ago,

“Don't go crying, to your Mama! ‘Cause you're on your own in the real world. Don't go crying, to your Mama! ‘Cause you're on your own in the real world.” 

They are all here, charming her over and over again each night. The song ends, the riff to the next starting as the cycle renews. She jumps to hype, shakes her hair around and begins with them singing first again.

“No sir, well I don't wanna be blame.”

“No not anymore. It's your turn! Take a seat. We’re settling the final score and,” 

“Why do we like to hurt so much?” She whips her hair up and down while they sing.

“I can't decide. You have made it harder to just go on. And why? All the possibilities. Well I was wrong. Sing with me now!” 

“Well that's what you get when you let your heart win! Whoa.” She walks to the other side of the stage and points her mic towards the crowd.

“That's what you get when you let your heart win, oh.” She dances.

“I drowned out all my sense with the sound of it's beating. And that's what you get when you let your heart win. Oh” She shakes her hair and hips to Harv’s guitar riff. Encouraging her fans to start dancing themselves before encouraging them to jump. 

Hearing them sing and watching the dance rushes her with probably unhealthy levels of dopamine. Professor Stein is somewhere disappointed, he’d probably revoke her degree. Nonetheless she continues. The night continues in cycles of people loving her that much. 

Actual people obsessed with them, loyal people. Fans hold signs with some of their favorite lyrics, they thrive when Hard Times is introduced. 

And It’s the best feeling in the world.


	2. City of Stars

Chapter 2: City of Stars 

Sullivan James Evans hates missing out on things he knew were gonna be awesome. He hates living his life with regrets and not trying new things. Lessons he learned upon moving to LA.

Seriously live life to the fullest. His and his friends motto. This is exactly why he has to spend an entire hour trying to find an excuse to not go to the Spartoi concert tonight. 

Liz is probably the only reason he got into this mess anyway. No one from his previous life was supposed to find him. He was supposed to be alone now, better. Forgetting a past full of people that still invade his mind. Whether it’s the good people, the horrible, or Maka Albarn, lead singer of Spartoi, smart, cute girl he used to date, now crazy hot and adored, also a mix of both absolutely amazing and horrible people from his past. He's anxious out of his mind of what she'll think of him now, after leaving her alone when he promised he never would. To this day it's the only regret he'll accept and still griefs about.

He figured all that time ago that she'd never forgive him for what he did to her. As more time passed, the more he dreaded returning to join her to see her heartbreaking reaction. However one day when weeks had passed he realized that he needed to let it go. He left to find freedom, not so guilt could eat him alive. She always deserved better anyway, way better. Just look at where she is as proof. But now he has tickets to her concert in the Greek Theater and a backstage pass, being forced to go by all his friends, and the most intimidating blonde(besides Maka Albarn herself) he knows.

It was supposed to be a regular Tuesday night, playing a show at Chupacabra’s, the usual gig bar. However when the curvy dirty blonde walked in with her boy toy everything changed. 

He was in the middle of a set, and couldn't hide from her always observant blue eyes. She recognized him, after all it wasn't hard to point out his super light blonde hair, almost white, and literal red eyes. He's unique. He can't help it. And he's learned to love it. She spoke to him as soon as he stepped down from the stage. Unsubtle and jumped to the dreaded point. It went a lot lighter and different than he had expected. Seeing as that he's still alive.

He remembers that she glared at him, death in her eyes, slapped him then hugged him tightly, almost like trying to suffocate him. Very quickly she regained her wall of “anger” and interrogated him, asking where he's been, why he left. He lightly explained minor details about how he wanted to recreate himself. She didn't look happy that night after his explanation that was clearly a load of bullshit which she saw right through. 

Deciding not to pry on old wounds she met with the rest of his band, laughed at some jokes before offering the passes and tickets to today's show. The look in her eyes made him understand right there that if he dared miss out she'd find him and murder him. However, he'll take that bet. 

He needs to find a reason to stay behind though, because after a quick Google search, their seats are a bit too close for comfort and he won't be able to leave until he meets her backstage. And he can't look at who she's become. 

First of all, he'll cry because he's so sorry. He'll feel all this built up guilt and probably die of it on the spot. And if not? The mortification will surely do the trick.

Second of all he'll actually drool because in Liz's terms, “she glew up,” which is more than accurate. Maka Albarn is not five feet two, scarcely thin, with small curves to her petite body. She's hot. There's no other way that he can explain how her hips swell out into perfect petite yet full curves now(though her ass always has looked good with it's cute curves and in skirts). How better self care turned into slender yet muscular long legs instead of being so pale from undernourishment. Don't get him started on her surely not “flat chest” anymore, she doesn’t have an extra large proportion of curves, but it’s enough and quite beautiful. She's just every wannabe hipsters dream girl. Of course she's way out of the league of most though, including himself. He also can't begin to think about her beautiful smile and sea glass eyes, that, surely will make him cry. 

Third, because he's scared of how much she must of changed. She's strong, probably won't or didn't let fame get to her head but that's just it. She's stronger more now than ever before. He's seen how she demands respect on stage, even from that video where her invited fan during Misery Business kissed her without consent. He remembers playing back how she kicked him off stage and yelled into her mic, “Hey guys and girls out there. Never kiss a girl or guy unless they want you to!” 

She's grown so much. Changed.

Soul's afraid that even if he left her for his own selfish self growth period that she somehow still managed to beat him. That unbreakable courage of hers fueled his own. Thinking of her makes him believe that this was all a mistake. He's always been the weaker one. Always will be.

He doesn't think he's strong enough or ever will be to face her after everything. 

The door slams open and his roommates join him. Clay, Akane, and Justine walk in looking much more excited than they've ever been over anything. When their eyes land on him to see that he's still in sweats and a T-shirt, they frown.

“The concert is in like two hours. I wanted to leave so we could get there earlier to see all the other acts. I heard Death the Kid might show up to support my wife.” Clay frowns. Spartoi is his favorite band of all time. He likes to think that Maka would actually date him despite being in a committed relationship with lead singer of DWMA, Thomas Hades Haberkorn II, to fans, DTK, or to Soul. Kid. 

It's never been a mystery to him why he went by Kid. He doesn't think anyone wonders why. Poor kid, no pun intended.

They grew up together, took piano classes together and Soul was the one to introduce Maka to him. That's when his secret envy for him really started growing. However he empathizes with the fact that he grew up forced into this richness and always being thrown into etiquette courses, ballroom dance. He understands. Kid beat him at something though. He made a choice for himself to use music in his life, go off to chase his dream and achieve it. Growing next to Maka's talent just happened to help him.   
Soul should've known.

Kid was just that perfect guy in all of Maka's AP classes. The guy that could play piano in ways Soul's father only dreamed of him doing. Proper etiquette and a true gentlemen. He was also heavily on the more attractive side of the physical look department. In a way, Soul always knew that if he dated Maka, it would last. They went well together and hell look at them. They've been  together since Maka made a name for herself with minimal fights and lots of cute dates Soul dreamed of taking Maka on. They understood each other and played good shows together. Kid was talented just like Maka. She was smart enough to know to date someone who is her equal, herself if she were a boy you could say. Envy didn't boil at the thought of it anymore because there was no point. He just knew that he should feel happy for them. 

He ran away to find himself but the truth is, he is no artist. No hipster. Nothing unique.

He's a reject who’s ruined his own life. It's time he accepted it.

“Yeah. Just let me grab my shoes and throw on some presentable clothes. Give me ten.” Clay nodded as he messed with the speaker to play some of his favorite Spartoi songs to hype them for the concert. Hearing her voice has always been a guilty pleasure. 

He claims the band is ‘okay’ just to keep others away from them possibly knowing that he knew her on a personal level. If he were to start speaking about her art he knows he'd babble off about how he just knows where the inspiration came from. He mention something about how nice, humble, and overall amazing she is. She’s a large topic in his brain. Half of his life memory is dedicated to her alone. Something that other’s don’t know is sure to slip out eventually, so it’s a very low-key obsession.

He's purchased every digital album though, even with Spotify premium because he'd still support her talent in every way he could. He has the vinyl form of their Self-Titled album, his absolute favorite song being Last Hope because he can relate to it so damn much. Him and Maka used to be an unbreakable force, but like all good things in his life. He ruined it. When they were children she’d share her poems with him and he’s recognized the recycled lines in her songs. 

After everything, the least he could do is show his support, and if support means that he has to overcome his fear of seeing her again. He'll do it. 

He grabs his leather jacket and slips on his favorite Chuck Taylor's. When he walks out Clay looks giddy but Soul can't be bothered to ask why. It doesn't stop him from rambling about it. Like he does with anything revolving around Spartoi and Maka “the babe” Albarn. Also the girl responsible for his terrible heartache.

“Guys, they're playing their new song tonight! It was confirmed by Maka! They'll select certain shows to play the Las Vegas set and Los Angeles is one! If we get there in time we’ll see DTK playing Vegas Lights and stuff off his last album with Maka as a preshow. Then Spartoi's hour and a half show with Black Star and Kama’s new single for encore.” Clay smiles at his phone.

“Thanks Maka Albarn fan pages.” He seems to say to the screen. Soul sighs. Clay's a dork. He's a lovable one however.

“Alright, let's head out. Wouldn't want Clay to cry for missing a set.” Akane teases before walking out the door. Soul watches his friends walk out, his heart is racing but he doesn't dare say anything. He can't ruin this night for them. He’ll forever be thankful for them. They took him in when he was just bouncing from cheap apartment to cheap apartment. Clay, Justine and Akane are now like his best friends. They annoy him sure, but they followed his suggestion at forming Soul Eater two years ago. It’s payed off, they have a small local following and even payed to record their fan favorite song to post onto YouTube and Soundcloud. 

They've done so much for him, he can't even complain.

So he walks out with a deep breath in intention of relief.

It doesn't work.

. . .

The Greek theater is beautiful. They're seated in the fifth row of section LFP for left pit. He could see her face and all the details through this area. He decides it's best to keep his head down. Thank the lord for reminding him to grab a hoodie to go under his leather jacket. It hides the hair his beanie won't at the small cost of looking like a scene kid again. Everyone is standing and he curses because he wants to sit to avoid her ever observant gaze. 

Clay next to Akane’s right and Justin to his own. Soul sits to the left of Akane and a group of girls already talking about how Maka is their idol on his left. They squeal and he swears that one of them is looking at him with a playful suggestiveness in her eyes. He almost wants to break their hope because there is no way she's over eighteen and Soul is twenty four.

The announcer voice sounds as all the lights turn off. Soul brings his attention back to the stage where he can see a shadow coming from behind the drum set with faint light of a stage door.  Surely the people in the far back can’t see it. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome DTK and his band DWMA for tonight's preshow.” the crowd cheers as Kid stands there, wearing his signature skinny black jeans, a suit & tie topped with a maroon jacket. 

If this were a full DWMA concert all the girls here would faint because DTK has a terrible hobby of taking off his shirt to show off his toned v-line and abs at some point in most of his concerts. They're not super defined but it's enough to display a full wave of being attractive to women. Soul's got his own take of muscles but he prefers to keep it under a shirt to be respectful. Kid usually isn’t like this, or at least when Soul knew him. Knew them he thinks as he recalls some of the clothing Maka wore during her solo career and the attitude she carried. That fire burning stronger than ever before when she was nineteen and in love as she explained. He shakes his head and focuses on whatever the hell Kid is saying. 

“Thank you thank you,” he is saying while walking around the stage to get a better look at his fan base. Soul feels himself duck when his eyes scan over the left side. It’s involuntary but necessary he feels. He’d like to enjoy the show without worrying about the news spreading backstage for as long as possible. 

Perhaps it’s his imagination that Kid does a double take across his section. 

The music starts anyway, maybe he forgot about the countdown and whatever enthusiastic words Kid had said or maybe he just zoned out. Kid's voice is amazing to say the least. He has such a wide octave range. So Soul listens and nods his head because Kid's voice is a total guilty pleasure, his main idol to his music being Sinatra and Soul can absolutely respect that. He's going more modern tonight though, and sure enough starts with Vegas Lights. 

The crowd sings along to the opening “whoa oh oh,” repeats of the song before silencing enough for Kid’s singing.

“Oh if you only knew, what we’ve been up to. I guarantee you'd keep it secret. So give it to me now, we’re lost in a dream now. Do it.” He points his microphone at the crowd.

The crowd chants back the countdown at his command and a glorious flip of his well groomed hair. 

“One more time. In the, Vegas Lights! Where villains spend the weekend, the deep end. We're swimming with the sharks until we drown.” He walks over to his side of the stage and Soul curses that he's enjoying himself and far too lost in dancing with his friends softly for sake of keeping up this act to care enough to replace the hoodie on his head. 

“The Vegas lights! The lies and affectations. Sensation. We're winning 'til the curtain's coming down.” Soul's grateful that he doesn't look at his side, just sings to the dark blobs in the far back and walks to the right for the next verse.

“Ain't it so, ain't it so perfect. Our cynical minds will make it totally worth it. So give it to me now. We're lost in a dream now.” He whips his hair again. Soul notices that Kid still rocks the white streaks in his hair. They were always perfectly aligned, something about his aesthetic.

“Do it LA!” he shouts into the mic. The countdown sounds through the stage, the blonde girl who eyed him like a hungry lion eyes a gazelle earlier now feels closer as she dances and sings. He shuffles closer to Akane who doesn’t question the quick eye trail to the ever flirtatious female beside him. Soul’s too asexual for the hunger in her eyes.

“One more time. In the, Vegas Lights! Where villains spend the weekend, the deep end. We're swimming with the sharks until we drown.” Soul continues to focus on the music and the vibe of this song. A tribute to Kid and Maka starting their careers by playing shows in Vegas. He knows it, after all she helped write the damn song. Of course the entire album hints that they had fun while being there in Sin city. It hints to the start of what they had, growing up in Nevada and visiting Vegas often enough. 

Hell it’s like Anaheim and Los Angeles of a distance. It’s where  Maka and Kid won homecoming Prince and Princess at the hotel that their private high school booked for all Homecoming and Prom dances. Of course they weren't dating back then, but Soul knew Kid was crushing harshly on Maka. It was written all over his eyes. Maybe it would've been Soul if their high school voted courts instead of earned them through merit. 

Maka was obviously always on the court. She was the Lady, Duchess, Princess, and surely the Queen. Kid was the Lord and the Prince. Soul has long forgotten who was the Duke and never knew the King. In another life he could've. If he just could've bared with his family for one more year… Maybe… 

Soul didn't go to Junior prom, nor did he go to senior dances. Obviously. He can't keep thinking of spoiled milk though, especially when the backstage door opens again. Soul watches carefully as the person dashes out and creeps behind the stage, waiting for a cue.

Everyone else, including his friends are too busy letting the beat lead their dancing to notice them. When he sees her, he freezes. Even hearing her name as she's introduced by Kid with a grin and “Maka everybody!”, it all just feels so inapt. The regret engulfs him once again- he's left stiff in a trance of self-destructive thoughts. Stuck. Like an explorer in quicksand.

‘No, no, no, no, NO.’

‘You did this, you are in NO place to feel pity for something entirely your fault. All the blame goes to the one who left.’ the demons tell yell at him.

He shakes his head and watches how she struts over to where Kid stands, radiant smile on her face as she continues to sing the next lines. He ignores his heartbeat increasing. Soul can just tell that they wrote these together, line by line because of the energy that seems to spark in their eyes as they go line by line. The note recognition and a vibe Maka hasn’t performed with since she was Kama. A young local solo artist with a reputation for her high notes. 

“And we're all not here for nothing, and we're bored with looking good.” Soul watches, slightly horrified as she cuffs his cheek with a certain glaze in her eyes, then slides in front of him. The height difference between them dominant yet Kid’s hand manages to fit perfectly into her hip dip. 

“We've got to be starting something. Would you change it if you could?” She slowly, shyly at first starts to grind her hips downward in front of him. Her face nervous, he can tell. This was probably someone else’s idea. Like a stage director or something because Maka isn’t the type to have ever been into PDA. Especially so explicitly. Almost pornographic.

“And we're all not here for nothing, and we're bored with looking good” However, she makes it work. It’s so mesmerizing to watch as she works herself down Kid until she's in a crouch in front of him.

“We've got to be starting something. Would you change it if you could?” Soul notices the step backwards that Kid takes.

“Change it if you could…?” Are the last lyrics and he swears there's a certain relief to her face as she lets out the line. She’s in discomfort. Maka is very asexual too after all. It wasn’t a shock to him why either. Sex has a bad reputation for her. Thank her parents for that.

He feels the beat pick up as Maka stops and rises up punching the air above her, pointing to the crowds shouting “Vegas Lights!”, moving farther from Kid’s side of the stage. Soul is still speechless. There is a wave of envy and a tsunami of heartache as she finishes the song with him. The look in her eyes as she smiles his way. An admiration painted across her face that she once stared at him with.

“In the Vegas lights. Where villains spend the weekend, the deep end. We're swimming with the sharks until we drown.” She dominates his voice in her parts. Like the song was meant for her, not Kid. It’s like a war of holding out high notes.

“Vegas lights! The lies and affectations. Sensation. We're winning 'til the curtain's coming down” She pauses her singing to dance around her side of the stage. Involuntarily Soul snorts at her cuteness.

“In the Vegas lights! Where villains spend the weekend, the deep end. We're swimming with the sharks until we drown.” The crowd and Kid sings as she jumps and hypes the crowd. She does her signature little hip shakes and hair whips before wrapping her arms around Kid from behind. The crowd cheers and they’re all singing through the smiles. She has to peek her head out from Kid’s side though, he blocks her with his height. Maka was always a petite women.

“The Vegas lights! The lies and affectations. Sensation! We're winning 'til the curtain's coming down.” Their happiness in contagious and Soul is engulfed in this sense of happiness because wow, look at her smile. Her damn smile. Her damn eyes. Look at her.

“Oh, oh, oh oh oh  
(5-4-3-2-1)  
Oh, oh, oh oh oh  
We're swimming with the sharks until we drown.  
Oh, oh, oh oh oh  
(5-4-3-2-1)  
Oh, oh, oh oh oh  
We're winning 'til the curtain's coming down.” The couple shares one last hug before she stands next to him, hands intertwined. 

“Maka Albarn everybody!” He says into his microphone. The crowd cheers, including himself because wow, what a jewel she is, standing there humbly apologizing for stealing any time he had with her fans. 

“How the fuck are you guys?!” he asks. It’s a little crude coming from someone like Kid but his own response is still genuine. Soul’s doing fucking amazing even with this bubbling anxiety. So he cheers for his old friends.

“I want to take the minute to acknowledge that this beautiful women next to me is the only reason that I'm standing here and doing what I love.” He lets the crowd cheer as Maka gives a sheepish smile. 

“I don’t mean this for just today either. She’s all the talent, I was lucky enough to have her steal my heart at the start and followed blindly. She made me who I am by giving me opportunities like this one at her earliest shows.” That gets an “awww,” from everyone in the crowd. He reaches for something in his pocket and Soul almost has a heart attack. Kid can’t possibly be proposing to Maka right now. He’d actually scream and curse out Liz for it being this concert of all the ones Soul knows she has tickets for as Maka’s personal stylist.

There’s a sigh of relief as he fishes out a necklace box and takes the time to clasp it around her neck. With a small, short peck to her temple he mumbles into the microphone, “Happy six years.” 

That news actually does make his heart skip a beat. Six years?! That can’t possibly be true. He recounts the years in his head and holy shit, he’s been gone for seven years. Should he even be panicking if Maka or Kid see him with this information? Hell, they’ve got better things to deal with than remembering Soul. Like enjoying Vegas, cute coffee shop dates and these shows. Oh how the time has flied. 

“I think we should finish this set, and it’s not my opinion to voice at this concert but I'm sure Maka -Ms. Albarn if that’s your kink- would agree with me.” He lets her hand fall to her side as he walks backstage and jogs back with a PRIDE flag in his hands. He ties it to his jacket like it’s a cape. 

“This is a safe place for you, and trust me. Who you decide to love, to marry, to fuck is all up to you,” that last statement makes Maka blush, and Soul frown, “and I guarantee that anyone who dares to lay a finger on you here for your beautiful self expression will be escorted out because this IS a safe place for you!” Maka cheers into her own mic which gets the crowd going slightly. She runs to the end of the stage after her last words and another hug.

“Take it away babe,” and the beat to Girls/Girls/Boys kicks off. 

Soul is still too shocked by everything that took place before him. Kid and Maka have officially been dating for six years today, they just honored their LGBT community, and Kid gave a heartfelt speech to his lover. Maka also addressed Kid as “babe” and that confuses Soul so much because this is not the type of things Maka would say in public. Maybe he needs to understand that most things can’t stay silent for celebrities for long, or maybe he needs to accept how genuine they are, how she refuses to deny her feeling or hide them after how he’s hurt her. Anyways, it’s nerve wracking because technically Maka hasn’t even started her show and he’s been swallowed by his thoughts, three times today. Far much than he has over the past couple years. It pains him to know that this won’t be the last.

What a night Liz has got him into.

. . .

The cold air against his cheeks is soothing, especially with the fresh tears streaming down them.

He gives up, he gave in. He hates himself for it. All this time he thought he was over it, over her. He didn’t feel guilty or remorse watching her from afar for so long, but it’s not the same as seeing her in person. Seeing her happy. Happy without him. It shouldn't hurt this much, it shouldn’t feel like a weight dropped on his rib cage. He can’t think about how sad she looked while singing Last Hope, how sad he felt. 

That’s What You Get and All I Wanted absolutely killed him. Her speeches, the way she addressed the crowd and clutched her necklace during Still Into You. How she just handled everything with a chirpy attitude and insane bravery. It hurts so much but the more he thinks, the more he realizes that if he stayed, this could’ve never happened. 

They shared each others dreams so often. Soul wanted to be the music idol to prove something to his father, and Maka wanted to write books. She’s such a romantic. Her voice is liquid gold, thinking about  kissing her was nice, such an innocent action that he could’ve done every morning and night. Feeling her softness and warmth filling him up like an empty balloon.

It could’ve have also shut her up. She could’ve gone to college dating him and not trying to write her feelings out in the form of a guitar her father gave her and reading music skills. In a way, maybe this is the best option because they both have what they want. Soul’s group is growing, people come to Chupacabra’s for them now. And Maka needs no one to question her dream. She’s up there, living life while writing and sharing in such a creative way. Hard Times is becoming a new favorite song fast. The eighties feel is so mesmerizing. She’s bringing back a sound so different and making it work perfectly for her voice. A sound his soul needed.

She’s maturing.   
Growing into a happier person without him. This shouldn’t hurt, but damn it does.

It’s been seven years. He’s lived in a city full of stars for this long. He could walk out his apartment to see all types of actors and musical artist but only she left him starstruck in the worst ways. Ways that are opening wounds just to pour salt in them. 

Her bright light is seeping into parts of him that he locked up thinking they were healed. 

He’s hopeless. She didn’t even notice him, and probably won’t talk to him now. They are not sixteen. She is not bookworm or pigtails anymore. She’s a household name and Soul’s a fool to think she’d notice him after it all. On purpose or accidentally. 

Maka Albarn won't care for Sullivan Evans like Pigtails cared for Shark teeth. 

She's too busy living her busy busy life to care about a small town local.

She's another star he'll see on the streets in a city full of them. So close but so distant.

He drives off towards home, he's been out for an hour and done far too much thinking. 

Maybe worrying about her noticing him was a mistake. Like hell she'd even care.


	3. I can't keep waiting for You

It’s been a week and a half since the concert yet she still feels this river of guilt tearing into her. She knows that Kid does too because he’s her “boyfriend,” and they’re supposed to be madly in love. She’s supposed to get lost in his eyes at least twice a date and Kid’s supposed to caress her cheek or kiss her forehead every time he thinks it looks natural. They’re amazing actors as Liz Thompson -Kid's sort of adopted older sister and Maka’s personal designer- likes to say when she sets up their weekly dates.  

Make no mistake, Maka loves Kid so damn much, but not in the ways that she keeps promising the media she does. It’s platonic. She loves the way they talk music and the way he smiles. She loves how he just gets her and that little glitter in his eyes when he’s speaks with absolute passion. She loves how he just understands everything that she is. They’re the same damn person, she swears it, but for Maka. She’s totally an opposites attract girl while Kid has fallen for a girl just like him, but also not. She’s in between which is enough to drive Kid crazy in love apparently. It still hurts to think that in terms of physique, Maka is Kids type. She refuses to not acknowledge that his real girlfriend is five four, one inch shorter than Maka, blonde, and has blue green eyes. It’s awkward too.

Yeah her and Kid have been dating for six years, but sadly they’re the biggest fattest liars on media, even with her refusal of photo shop. Only one of the years were truly genuine, but back then it was so that they didn’t feel lonely. It was so that she could hold somebody again. 

It felt like trying to fit a very compassionate rectangle into the empty circle where her heart once belonged, something that Kid’s perfectionism would cringe at. She’ll never forgive herself for actually breaking Kid’s heart when they were nineteen and lovesick. It wasn’t working, she knew that he knew, but regardless of them crying in each others arms that night, regardless of him trying so damn hard to make her happy, she still broke it off. She refused to not support him through the rest of the tour though, and the deal was set.

So since that winter evening when she went numb, cold, her heart falling with the leaves, it’s all been a ruse to keep the press off both their backs when it comes to love and people they’re attracted to. Maka knows she’d rather see Kid on this type of cute date with his actual significant other Anastasia “Ana” Yngling. Here under the trees in  beautiful Los Angeles Parks, not sneaking away to Seattle or Death City for a dinner date. It's sad because Anya is the sweetest girl Maka has ever met. She notices the way that Kids eyes light up when he talks about her. So sitting here and holding his hand as they lay under the trees of the local park strikes her with guilt and so much pain because she too wishes that it was someone else here with her. 

She misses him even when she knows that she shouldn’t, it not hard to forget him during the year. But anniversaries serve as painful reminders. Six years with Kid only marks and brings seven years without Soul closer. The date is approaching quickly and she's not sure she can take it. It's like a cycle of dread, mourning, I still love you, then finally screw you for making me care again. 

The day of the concert marked one month till’ that fateful day. Now it's in less than three weeks, and she feels mortified at how her way of ignoring it was drinking with Kid, kissing him and sometimes sleeping with him for an entire year she looked for love with him even if she was the one who couldn’t give it back. Her previous way of trying to forget Soul is laying next to her, dozing off so innocently. So flawlessly and politely one of her best friends when he had every possible reason to hate her.

It all feels so wrong. 

Sure she enjoys these “dates” with him but it’s exhausting her heart out. She’s torn between this and it’s not even real! 

She revels these moments, but feeling the need to kiss him every once in a while just to get their fans off her case is annoying and a total mood killer. She’s really trying to be a good fake girlfriend, but she can’t when there’s certain rules to follow. It's a turn off. If she really loved him, than this wouldn’t feel like a burden or weight in her chest. She knows -well thinks at least- what love feels like. It’s just been hard since he left. She admits, falling out of love with someone like Soul was hard. It felt like trying to get your heart to stop beating on command. Impossible. 

Soul was amazing. Every part of him, will she admit it? No. She swore if she saw him ever again that she’d slap him across the head because how dare he leave her when she needed him? How dare he lie to her face after everything she gave him. It’s infuriating. 

“You okay?” Maka’s scowl gets noticed and it softens at his concerned face. She feels him run his thumb across her knuckles- gentle reassurance. At this, she looks his way and smiles. “Yeah,” she gives his hand a gentle squeeze, “just thinking about a lot.” 

He nods, understanding. God she wishes they were more than friends sometimes, but always in the end she knows that he isn’t the one. She can feel it like she felt it with Blake SO many years ago. The both of them were so sweet to her, patient and nice (well enough, in Blake's case) despite having their own worries, yet she just knows. No one has broken her heart nor repaired it quite like Soul had. 

He gives her a small smile, “you’re always free to speak your mind when you’re with me Maka. I know that anniversary is coming up, both him and your mother. I know it’s hard right now.” Maka mumbles a gentle “thank you”. 

Kid handles talking about the reason [Soul] they broke up with grace. All he wanted was for her to commit to him. She couldn't. Still can't. 

It’s true that her mother left when the wind picked up in the fall air before the kick off to the holidays, and Soul left just shortly after thanksgiving. No wonder she's always depressed in December. She's alone. She lost them both near then. It was hard, but there exists nothing that Maka Albarn couldn’t get passed. 

“I think I wanna go home for the holidays,” she declares. Kid shuffles next to her as if trying to hear her better because surely she didn’t just pass off Liz’s huge thanksgiving party to go home to her Papa of all people. Maka sits up, hugging her knees to her chest, not even trying to hide the sadness in her eyes. However, she feels knows deep down that laughing with her Papa and seeing Marie again would fill her with warmth she could savor for awhile. Especially after that concert. She's also kinda annoyed and angry with Liz not telling her about Soul yet. He was there, maybe that's fueling her painful reminder even more. Liz knows it would, and hasn't told her about how she invited him, which means she saw him before then. Liz was a women with connections. 

Kid grips her hand a little tighter as if bringing her back to the present. It's how he would when she was thinking of Soul like this on their real dates. And it stings. ‘Change the subject Maka. Change it.’ She hears chanting through her mind.

“I think it’ll be good to get away and go back home for awhile,” She continues, “Besides I know Blair would be happy to see me again.” The bubbly women’s joy is contagious. Maka could use that right about now.

Kids molten gold eyes are unreadable as he stares. She sighs and crosses her legs underneath her. She can't look at him, her stable dam walls will break and she'll be a crying mess. Paparazzi can't see that. 

‘Change the subject. Let it out. Don't suffer alone.’ For once she listens.

“I’m not dense you know, I saw him.” No name given but he catches on. Before Kid opens his mouth, she intervenes, “I know Liz gave him the tickets.” Kid makes a choking sound, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlight. Uh-oh all over his face. Ha!

“Whenever I give out tickets, to her especially, I make sure to memorize the seat numbers so that I can see who they invite this time. I was expecting her newest boy toy with his friends, not...that,” She pauses, waits for an interjection and then carries on when it doesn’t come. Good, so her guess was right after all. 

“I won’t lie and say that it wasn’t shocking, or that it didn’t hurt,” there’s a look of apology passing through Kids eyes but Maka holds up her hand to stop him. She wants no pity. 

“However, I got to thinking that I need to let it go.” She acknowledges the flash of sorrow in Kid’s eyes,  “Yeah, I saw him alright. Yeah it stung, but here’s the thing.” She turns to Kid, eyes full of hope and a bit glassy. Out of instinct he grips her shoulder. She blinks back the tears that can't be shed. Not here, not now, not ever anymore.

“He looked happy there, with whoever those other guys were, with whoever that girl was. I am happy with who I am. Soul still being here?” she thinks, “Is like a cherry on top of an ice cream sundae. Nice, but unnecessary.” Like a drain to a pool her eyes stop watering all together. It’s a sign she’ll ponder later in the shower. Either she’s actually finally over this, or she’s reached the limit on tears she can cry over him. 

“Maka..I-” It’s Maka’s turn for hands on the shoulders. Reassurance. She smiles through the pain because really, it’s all she can do now. There is no hope on a lost cause. She has an album to finish before Christmas. A certain red haired father to bake apple pie for, and a new concert set plus tour to plan. Her life is filled to the brim with fun and joy, she can’t won't let one rotten apple ruin the tree. 

“It’ll be okay Kid. I’ll be okay. It’s time to let go.” Her voice is back. It's not the coward whisper. It’s a promise to herself, and Kid nods. They have a new pact. She’s over Soul Evans, and Kid’s responsible for whatever actions she completes regarding him after this. He’ll keep her in check, his eyes assure. 

She laughs for a little bit and Kid smiles at her, “You’re so strong Maka. I’ll always adore that about you.” the statement makes her cheeks flush. Maka knows she’s strong, a big girl, and she’ll pull through this. Gg Ez, her fun occasional gaming terms lighten her up. Maybe she should start gaming again. Maybe Blake and her could spend more bonding time together if she did. She hates to say, but it’s like they’ve grown distant. She can’t lose anybody else.

“Soul Evans who?” She mumbles in a joking matter. Kid chuckles slightly. It makes her feel warm and fuzzy to know he’s here. If only Blake could be here for the ordeal. She wants needs his bear-hug for the first time in forever. Maybe she’ll text him later and invite him to dinner. She wants to share this milestone with him. Wants him to know that she's over it. Hell, they could go out for drinks later if that's what he wants. She could use the reckless rush of alcohol right about now. 

“Do you wanna go for a coffee?” Kid suggests. 

Or coffee, maybe coffee could give her the caffeine rush she needs for now. She can't exactly go out drinking in LA without careful planning and a wig anyway.

“Only if it's that cute hipster cafe near my favorite bookshop.” 

“Maka, Eibon’s books and Deathbucks are in DC.” Kid wits out because Maka knows and would argue for hours why they're the best cafe and bookstore in the world, she knows Kid would too. She really should pay both her father and her hometown a visit. It's been months.

“Damn.” Is her quick reply but Kid stands to take her hand anyway. 

“How about just the cafe around the block? They've got foam art. I promise.” Hesitantly Maka takes Kid’s hand. 

Yeah. A caramel latte with dove art sounds like enough to fill her emptiness right now.

. . .

“We should get married soon.” Kid says, calmly following a sip from his peppermint latte. 

Maka guffaws at the option because she never meant for them to go this far. She’d like to have a first and only husband when marriage becomes a clear option for her. She doesn’t want to see Kid as her first husband when the time comes around. 

“Relax.” Her tense shoulders may have given her distaste away. Her tongue stings and she acknowledges that she burned it. Thank the lord her final show of the mini USA tour was in San Diego last week. Azusa will shit bricks when she finds out, but it’s not severe enough to ruin her and Blake’s award show performance of Closer this weekend. Hopefully. 

“Hi ahm.” Maka spits out, her tone slurred by the stinging. Kid chuckles before his face falls.

“I'm serious. I should propose, and we'll split before the marriage. It might sound selfish but I kinda want to be seen with Anya in public.” He explains, a flush to his face and Maka smiles. This is fine. More than fine, Kid’s not the type to show off his girlfriend unless she means a lot to him. The thought excites her. How ironic. This isn’t how people deal with breakups unless they’re insane.

“That's a wonderful idea actually. The question is, how?” She answers and watches as his own tense shoulders relax. She would have said yes if he wanted to back out of their relationship earlier without bringing Anya into the picture, but it might still feel scary. She understands. The media is vicious. 

“Remember how I told you that I'm gonna perform Death of a Bachelor as a debut to my new album live on Arachnophobia in January? There's gonna be flapper dancers, what it you're my partner in the dances and I propose at the end? It'll get the news out.” Make smirks largely at the idea because it sounds so romantic and cute. That’s the show where Media got a first confirmation of their relationship. If she's gonna be engaged she might as well enjoy the idea. 

“Perfect.” It's Kids turn to smile as Maka sips from her latte. Ironically the last of her foam lovebird.

There's a pause he takes as if trying to find correct words. Maka sets her cup down and encourages him to speak with her gentle eyes. Kid shakes his head and looks at her, smiling through sorrowful eyes.

“I'm never not gonna think of you as my first Maka. First love, first kiss, first time you know,” he looks down suggesting at his -ahem- thing, it makes Maka blush deeper than the red accents in the cafe. 

“I don't know, what I guess I'm trying to say is that,” there's the hesitation again before she visually sees him decide to spit it out, “I'll always love you.” He finishes and Maka blinks rapidly. It doesn't shock her because she knows he does. She’ll always love him. This much she can admit. Wholeheartedly.

“Yeah. I will too Kid. I love you. I want what's best for you.” She takes his hand. For the first time in a long while it feels right to hold him and think of something like love. 

Even if they've reached their end. She's happy. It's enough to fill her. It's enough to keep her going.

. . .

“If I'm gonna recommend any video game to you. Any at all.” Blake is pulling from his disc shelf hours later, searching for what he wants to gift her. There is a smirk on his face as he starts laughing.

“Just kidding. My heart, soul, and body is committed to playing Overwatch right now.” Maka watches, confused as he walks towards the computer where he plays on and hands her a box with the title Overwatch surely across the front. There is a women with short brown hair and orange tinted glasses on the front. She holds two pistols and is in a dashing position. 

“So it's a shooter? I wasn’t very good at those. You know this.” Maka recalls refusing to play with Blake when they were younger. But people change, and when school ended, Maka had no other entertainment. She remembers playing as very young children, but it's not the same as video games nowadays. She can't sit here and play Pokemon Diamond or Mario Kart Wii anymore. The last she remembers is playing games like Halo and Destiny with Kilik and Blake in college.  

“I’ll play with you, sit, let me go get the other PC, I’ll be back.” He almost reassures just by those small words. Blake does a lot of different activities to keep him busy. Sports, both real and esport. She just admires how he takes it on with a smile and optimistic natures. She envies it in a way. 

It’s that attitude that attracted her to him when they were kids. It was cute, and sweet. He is her own personal first kiss, first love because she does love him. Even now, he’s grown by her side. He best friend, brother. They argue, of course they do. 

Hell, they argue like hell over small things. Though, of course she’d never wish to lose him over petty things like whether sushi is good or not. (It’s gross by the way) but he does piss her off and she him. 

Soul is one of those sensitive things. He always encourages that she go back out and mingle because she damn deserves better, but he doesn’t understand that it’s very hard for her. Their biggest argument came from his hurtful words after Soul left.

“It wasn’t hard for you to get over me, what’s so different about him?” The thought of his words make her shudder. The memory of her not giving an answer, because she doesn’t know either. 

Heart-wrenching pain struck her when he said it. Apologies had long ago been given, but she can’t help to feel like they’ll never be the same. She feels his hand pat her back, scaring her but nonetheless she turns to meet his jade eyes with a smile. He holds up a HP laptop similar to the Envy model she has in her own home.

“Alright, let me plug you in, and,” he connects the PC to the other cart, messing with wires, a mouse, a headset and running a sensitivity check. When everything is in place he shuts it off and removes the battery, taking the charger and plugging it to a strip extension and the screen powers on, the computer roars to life and then the screen flashes with the Overwatch logo surely in the main screen, he launches the app and sign her into his second account. 

“You can play the tutorial for now if you want. I’ll go get snacks and a better mouse. Are you still on that greens, chicken, and cheese only diet by the way?” After answering that yes, she’s vegetarian and a scowl from Blake she complies and watches as the in game voice announces itself as Athena. Placing her hands naturally on the WASD keys at Athena's command. It feels different but she gets the hang of it and plays different modes with Blake through laughter and a pizza that’s half ham and cheese, half meat lover.

“So what’s up?” Blake says without looking away from his screen where he’s playing the front women she now recognizes as Tracer. Maka glances from her kill-cam where she got killed by an annoying character named Junkrat, everyone hates him, Blake had said. 

She has “what do you mean?” written all over her face but he still arches his brows suggesting that there's a bigger reason to her asking to come over and play video games with him again. And there was, but she hasn't brought herself to say it.

She wanted to talk, right, about Soul.

“I'm technically getting engaged to Kid.” She offers as a start. His reaction almost the same as her own, except through video game where he fell off the map. 

“I thought you guys were like fake, isn’t that a bit much?” Is what he says after he exits the game and takes a knee next to her.

“Well it is fake, he wants to break up publicly because of Anya and I said it was fine. We’re gonna pull it off in January and let go sometime in March. We wrote the breakup letter already, Azusa approved. It’s getting there.” Blake moves to the couch, she turns her chair to face him, legs crossed under her. 

“You’re album releases in May? Late April? Won’t that be bad for you?” 

“I don’t care anymore.” slips off her tongue fast, with confidence. It makes Blake’s smirk grow. There’s the attitude she wants. He’s proud of her remark and honestly she is too. It’s nice for him to show it. Blake makes her feel better about herself, just with looks of encouragement because he knows her, understands her and doesn’t at the same time. He’s here, within a call and always willing to listen.

“We also talked about,” she hesitates but swallows the lump in her throat. It’s over. “Soul.” There is venom in her tone, it catches Blake off guard because she’s never shown anger towards him. Never really been one to flaunt off that anger. 

“Oh yeah?” He presses on, amused by her newfound spunk. 

“Yup.” she pops the ‘p’. Her eyes connect with his to hold the meaning that she also doesn’t care about him anymore. More for her own good than real hatred towards him. There is a large part of her that will forever be empathetic for Soul’s story. 

“I don’t care about him anymore either.” She states, it’s plain, and kind of harsh. Blake eyes her with a certain gaze that cuts through her thickest walls. 

“Maybe you don’t know it but you’re lying.” He fires back. She sucks in her cheeks.

“I’m not.” her voices raises slowly but he remains there, staring with those eyes.

“You’re building another wall. If you were over this you wouldn’t have to do that.” 

“I am not-” 

“I think it’s because you’re scared of letting Soul go.” At this statement she flinches. His eyes brighten. Bingo. 

She looks down, like the thought was foreign even if she knew that it was true. Yeah she’s scared. She never trusted anyone with her heart like she did him, and she’s scared of it happening again. Terrified of blindly following. She wants Soul so bad not because she wants them to be together like in the past. She knows it won't be the same, take her mother and her father for example. It’s a frightening thought to compare her relationship with theirs because she’s tried her hardest to avoid it her whole life. But look at her. She’s becoming her father, depressed and sulking in misery waiting for someone who won’t come back or even say “Hi.”

Soul left, like her mother. It was too much and he gave up on them. It hasn't occurred to Maka that maybe she gave up a long time ago too, but holds on for closure. For an answer, anything.

Her head is pounding, she clutches her elbows, gnawing at her bottom lip then looks up to meet Blake’s worried gaze. 

“What do I do?” comes out of her mouth like a desperate cry. He stands and pulls her up into a hug.

“Go see him. On your anniversary. Forgive, apologize, move on after you find closure. Whatever you decide on, just keep with it. Because I’m tired of seeing you cry over spilled milk.” He’s right. She’s crying, into his shoulder and gripping onto him like she’s anxious he might go away too.

“He has a band at that plays in this weird hipster bar near forty second street. I’ll take you there tomorrow. I’ll be there. Be here. Always.” There is no other reaction she can give but hugging tighter and a chaste kiss on the cheek goodnight. She ended her night there. In his room, and it felt like they were kids again. Laughing until they cry. Facing the pain together. 

She hates herself for shutting him out. For shutting Kid out. For shutting herself out of her own emotions.

She’s not there yet, not well enough to change but it’s a big step. 

And it feels good.


	4. Chapter 4

“Can you hand me the snare?” Clay asks to cut through the thick silence of them setting the stage. His voice a whisper but still like a needle dropping in silence. When he reacts to reach for the drum piece Akane had beat him to the job and carefully places it on Clay’s huge drum set. He brought all of his equipment out today, including the bongos “just in case.” they wanna mess around. 

The owner of Chupacabra’s agreed to let them host an open mic night after Justin came up with the idea instead of regular Friday night karaoke. Well, as long as they still played a set which was a small three song sacrifice. The tickets and lineup roster has call ins that desperately wanted to play today and the idea makes him content. The voices behind the calls were nervous at first, but their excitement evident, to the point where it might become a regular thing as Free has mentioned to them.

Music brings people together. He’s had a sad past with the topic of making music but here, it’s not something he’s doing for his father or Wes. It’s his hobby, his. He is the one who made this step and honestly won’t ever regret it. He loves being the front man for Soul Eater. Sure, he hardly sings but it was his plan, his idea and the boys insisted he represent them. Maybe he’ll sound egoistic when they grow bigger since his self-titled name [Soul] is the band’s name, but he doesn’t see himself taking all the credit. After all he’s nothing but absolute garbage at composing lyrics. Expressing emotion through notes? Sure. It’s another language he knows like the back of his hand. Lyrics, they will come out like a love song every middle school boyfriend sings to their girlfriend. Akane describes it as poetry that flows out, just like Maka had when she discussed her creative writing with him. He doesn’t understand it though. A flow? Letting it all out, doesn’t work and believe him, he has a lot of tension to squeeze out like a sponge. It’s never worked for him, even as a prodigy musician.

The experience of being a musician- for Soul Eater- is amazing to say the least. They’re creating a small loyal following and everyone of Soul Eater takes turns with instruments through covers and some original music, in which he plays rhythm guitar or (rarely) piano. Akane is their main source of vocals and naturally Clay is their drummer. Justine the bass player. Whenever they wanna have fun though Clay sings and Akane plays guitar, Soul will pick up the bass and Justine on the drums. They’ll fool around through their own songs or Clay’s favorites. Whatever he and Akane telepathically decide on, Justine and Soul follow to their best ability. Which has gotten better over the years. He no longer has to worrying of playing on the completely wrong key, or confusing the songs. He’s always been horrible at that. Even in his strictly classic piano Sullivan James days. Playing alongside friends felt like a breeze of fresh air after one of those childhood Nevada heatwaves.

He loved Soul Eater. It’s his life now, exciting. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this joyful on a Friday night gig since they first started. It’s new and breathtaking.

“What are we playing tonight boys?” Immediately Clay suggests that they open with an original song of theirs and go on to play some covers, maybe swap rolls. Soul is honestly ready for anything, and when the idea is settled he fingers through some of their songs. 

Love is a large muse of Akane’s. Even if he feels like he doesn’t deserve it, which is a belief that Soul can relate to. It’s not just his bad experience with relationships. He’s just bad at love. He couldn’t express it, and that often felt like he couldn’t give it. Him and Maka were very one-sided. He really didn’t know if he loved her or not. It’s still something he’s figuring out. She invades his thoughts. Haunts him. He isn’t quite sure if it’s empathy or if he really loves her.

The idea of Maka is and always has been a sensitive thing for him. Especially since Liz insists on being friends with his band mates and has already spilled that they knew each other during high school. Clay obviously knows that Soul and Maka are connected in some way now because Liz and Maka knew each other in high school. Questions have begun to be asked. It’s daunting but he manages. He’d probably react the same way if they switched lives. Clay annoys him, brings back pain and reopens wounds for fresh salt but he has to recall that she’s Clay’s idol. 

The questions scare him. Sure. Clay knew that he was from Nevada when they first met but the thought of being from the same little town as Maka Albarn has him already bouncing off the walls and bombarding questions. Like if he ever saw her or talked to her. Clay had settled for the answer: yes but I didn’t know she’d be the Maka Albarn you know today back then. It’s true though. Soul didn’t know Maka Albarn. He knew Pigtails who was selfless, troubled but living to the best that she could and still committing her whole heart to him through the pain. Even with the family who didn’t try to be a family at all. His eyebrows crease at the thought. Clay’s going to probably hate Soul when he finds out. He loves Maka, obsesses over her, who could blame Clay. He can’t imagine how heartbroken he’d be when Soul tells him that they were a couple and neighbors for the majority of his life. That he screwed her over. When he saw her in concert he’d decided on slowly letting them know. It was best. It’s time to stop hiding things. 

The concert is still fresh in his mind, more than a week ago but unforgettable. Maka has a certain energy that she brings to the stage. The memory of that spunk being so lost when she was suffering without him pains. She’s a great person. She deserves the world. She’s an angel. 

Grigori is what she used to say. She treasured the name, even when her mother didn’t. He recalls teasing that she doesn't look Japanese, and her firing back that he doesn’t look Italian. Small childhood bickering. Always getting her into trouble because she was brilliant except for when he distracted her. He should’ve realized that he was stealing her heart back then. Maybe then he could’ve stopped it. Maybe she could’ve been happy instead of singing all these troubling love songs. He doesn’t want to sound self centered because surely Kid has some leverage on her inspiration, maybe other stories she’s heard. However he knows that some of her lyrics are directly fired at him. Especially when she mentioned a lover leaving her. Those comments give him hope that there is some chance she’d still be a part of his life. They make him feel like she still remembers him. Like she might care.

They shared that quick glance that night, it broke him open. It could’ve been an imagination that she was looking at him. He can’t stand it. His skin crawls at the thought of hurting her. She didn’t deserve to be hurt by him, and he never deserved her. She wanted to believe that he was helping her. Maybe he believed he was helping too...

“Hey.” The greeting scares him out of thought, the voice is far too feminine to be any of Soul’s friends. He turns to meet the same Aryan who reunited him with this mess. She’s smiling though, so he can’t possibly be mad- physically. 

“Hi.” comes his response, sheepish. She smiles and waves to the rest of his band mates. He’s isn’t sure how she got in so early but then again Liz has her ways. Whether it be through flirting or just recognition to who she is. Soul thinks that Maka chose her just because she’s an introvert who didn’t want to find someone else. Maka’s sense of fashion is very different from Liz. Sure a designer makes the customer “happy” but honestly Liz has a noticeable influence and diversity on Maka. He can tell who’s idea an outfit’s was. Like a reflex. This is why how they became friends before she realized that Liz and Kid were related perplexes him. They’re polar opposites but can speak and speak for days. Hold conversation perfectly. Cry and spill to each other. Maybe they’re more alike than he gets off. Maybe he didn't even know Pigtails like he thought. He shakes his head and tries to focus on whatever the group is conversing about.

“Are you gonna be singing tonight?” Justine’s question is directed at Liz as she settles herself on a stool from the bar. She nods, then follows by holding a cold stare with Soul. It makes him shudder. She’s ice. He’d never dare underestimate the authority Liz has. 

“Yeah, with an old friend of Soul’s. We’ve been needing to catch up. I thought this would be fun.” 

He’s screwed. It’s all over her face as she smirks and moves over to order a drink from Eruka. Something he’ll have to join her with if what she said means he’s got to see her. And knowing Liz? It probably does mean that. 

Fuck his life. 

 

Nervous can’t even begin to describe what Maka is feeling right now. She’s damn terrified. It’s not because she's going to see him, or talk to him. It’s really not. She’s scared for herself. For her reaction because if any emotion is evident and obvious to herself right now out of the packed jar she just busted open. 

It’s anger because how fucking dare he. How dare she. They. All of them. 

Maka is a threat when she’s emotional. Like a hose that won’t stop running until every drop of the water in circuit is spilled. It’s a bad habit that Azusa like’s to pick fun at. Often referring to it as her fuse. She doesn’t know why she can’t control it either, and it frustrates her more. Some of her fans argue that it’s “Not anger. It’s passion.” Maka would sure as hell like to agree with them to defend her pride but it’s been shattered enough by talk show hosts that purposefully ask questions that agitate her. Like Arachne or that bastard Asura. 

She blows out a hot breath. Alongside her Blake is shuffling his feet as they finally walk into the damn bar after Liz incorrectly sent the wrong address. Twice. The place is coated in faux leather and warm lighting. The door opens up to the stage where a full kit is set up drenched in red lighting. The bar is mahogany with old stools that have seen better days. Behind it is a small variety of liquor brands and beers. The booths are decorated with couples sharing fast food. There are tables where people stand tall to watch the show and a small pit in front of the stage. She notices Liz waiting at the bar glancing at her phone anxiously. Maka curls her lip as the stench of alcohol hits her before fixing her wig back into place and pacing towards her, Blake following. 

“Hey,” she greets the blonde. Liz jumps and glances up to meet Maka’s disguised self and Blake in his natural dark hair. A smirk grows on her face. Shaking her hand in Blake’s freshly dyed hair. 

“Ew Star! You haven’t worn your hair down and dark since high school. I forgot what you looked like naturally.” Blake smirks, “Sorry you were kept from my natural beauty so long.” he fires back before slapping Liz’s outstretched hi-five hand and fist bumping it. Maka hugs the girl and folds her arms under her chin when she’s finally sitting next to Blake and his their ordered drinks. Her pastel pink hair falling to shield her eyes. She feels Liz pull it back and hook the strands behind her ear, motherly. 

“Where’s Patty?’” She’s reminded to ask. 

“Home. She’s getting a little sick and wanted to rest so she wouldn’t miss the award show tomorrow night.” Maka nods and dismisses the idea of singing with Patty tonight, something she was looking forward to. Patty loves to fool when she can and Maka would jump at any opportunity to help release that award-winning smile. 

“What’s with the get up by the way? Though you would just come in and swing your angry ex girlfriend hammer around without a care in the world.” Liz asks through sips of her mixed fruity drink. Maka snorts. She swirls the straw of her virgin piña colada.

“It doesn’t mean I’m gonna hide. I just don’t want any viable photo proof of me tearing his corpse apart.” Liz laughs, tilting her head back and making Maka smile. She’s not hiding, not here to observe. She’s here for her closure. Even if it means saying bye-bye forever at the end of the night. However maybe this would give her space to calm down, hiding inside a persona. She shuffles her vintage bomber jacket off and folds it into her lap. 

“Where is he anyway?” Blake cuts through. Liz cocks her head to a hall she hadn’t noticed before. 

“Setting up for their open mic night. I signed us up. Me, then Maka and I, then you and Blake and then all of us. Like you asked.” The information of performing with Blake is new to Maka but she shrugs it off. It wouldn’t be anything new. It’d be like tomorrow, another warm up. 

“Do you know what you wanna play? It can’t be any of our actual music.” Maka states considering that her wig can only hide so much. No way will her wig disguise her completely. Maybe if colored contacts didn’t irritate her to the point of tears she’d pull it off as a good voice.

“I want to play French Class together.” She sheepishly suggests. The idea of playing Maka’s favorite song is already winning, but that means that Blake will have to sing with Maka and he doesn’t really enjoy doing that. However something in her face alongside Liz’s own convinces him as he dismisses it with a “whatever,” When Liz asks if it’s okay for her to try singing one of Spartoi’s songs with Maka on guitar she accepts. As long as Maka doesn’t sing then it should be fine. 

When they decide they move on to small banter about tomorrows show and Liz’s good eye on putting Maka in a gorgeous navy blue slit dress that accents her long legs and brings out the gold in her Kid’s eyes. Blake complements her on matching Maka and Blake for the performance. They’d be dressed in black and white. Feedback sharply cuts through their conversation and Maka directs her attention towards the stage where he stands with the same males he went to the concert with. Guys she now recognizes as his bandmates. She squints at him moving around, obviously nervous. She knows the feeling. Maka doesn’t allow herself to get stuck in his trance and focuses on whatever the blonde is announcing. 

“Anyways, this isn’t to intimidate you guys since we’re not that good either, but just a little warm up for the night. Thanks again for coming out, this is Arabella. Enjoy.” He places the mic away somewhere behind himself and counts down the song before it opens slowly. She watches as their singer positions himself at the mic stand, covering Soul slightly behind his height. She watches as he carefully moves his fingers across the guitar. Their music is good. Could probably sound better in an actual studio or on a stage with good ventilation but she ignores it to focus on the lyrics. 

‘and when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams.’ The music speeds. They’re like indie rock, one of Maka’s favorite genres however she isn’t sure how she feels about them just yet.

“My days end best when this sunset gets itself, behind that little lady sitting on the passenger side.” Her head nods slightly to the small build up happening on the stage. Their singer moves and she can see Soul concentrated on the riff he’s playing out. She smirks at the joke of him taking anything seriously at all. 

“It's much less picturesque without her catching the light. The horizon tries but it's just not as kind on the eyes as Arabella.” She notices that some people in the crowd sing the lyrics back, Maka isn’t quite sure what they are but she acknowledges that there is deeper meaning and a certain poetic feel to their music. Naturally she stands with Liz to join those who are dancing as Blake moves their belongings to an empty tall table. 

‘just might of tapped into your mind and soul, you can’t be sure.’ The riff ends and begins at the buildup once again. She watches as Liz fixes herself into the crowd and decides that she’d rather rejoin Blake. It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy the music, but she’s never been the type to dance to this music. 

‘Arabella’s got a seventies head, but she’s a modern lover. It’s an exploration. She’s made of outer space.’ 

“They’re not that bad,” Maka says to Blake who is just staring at the stage. This isn’t his genre forte at all. It means a lot that he’s sitting through it. 

“Yeah. I’m kinda digging it.” She laughs a little but refocuses on the song. Her eyes scanning for Liz in the crowd who has merged into the front of the group. A smile paints her face before she finds herself moving her shoulders to the beat and mumbling what she thinks is the chorus. 

“Just might’ve tapped into your mind and soul, you can’t be sure.”

She crosses her arms and watches the outtro, smiles at their instrument solo and claps when it’s all over. She can’t think of a good time to approach him but watches as his bandmates reset the stage introduce the next act before walking towards the bar. She elbows Blake and asks that he go find Liz before they waltz over to commute and congratulate Soul Eater. 

She wonders if Liz told him she’d be here. If he actively looked for her during their performance. In any case that Liz did spill she can’t detect any sign of him caring. When she glances again their lead singer is starring at her. Maka’s reflex is to wave and it seems to embarrass him. No empathy is felt however, she does not like being looked at like a target. In fact she takes offense to it.

When Blake takes too long to convince Liz to rejoin them through the women singing ‘I Wanna Dance With Somebody’ on the stage she gives up on going as a group and walks over with crossed arms. Their drummer turns to meet her eyes as she approaches. Absentmindedly Maka pulls her hair from behind her ears to cover her face. She can’t meet the gaze that Soul is giving her as she introduces herself.

“Great performance. That guitar solo was awesome.” Soul’s response is to mumble a thank you. Embarrassment evident. She still knows him, which is a good thing if she’s got to say so herself. 

“Thanks! I’m Clay.” The drummer holds out his hand for her to shake and she takes it. His grip is tight, the shake firm. Her heart is exploding in her chest because now they’re introducing themselves and starting small talk. There is no going back in what she started. Hopefully Blake drags Liz here soon enough. 

“Did you come alone? I don’t think I recognize you.” Akane asks her, she crosses her arms and shakes her head. Trying to achieve nonchalance. 

“No. I came with my friend Liz. I think you’re acquainted?” She sees Soul rise from his slump sharply when the words flow, and sure enough Soul’s friends practically force her to meet his eyes as he is now their center of conversation. 

“Yeah we are. So you’re an old friend of Soul’s too?” Maka meets his eyes for the first time. He tries to look at something beyond her as she takes in his crimson pools swimming with fear. It’s a look she had no idea would pour salt into wounds. He scans over her quickly, a crease in his brow but nonetheless facing a flash of recognition. She takes in a large breathe and huffs it out, a sharp pain building in her chest.

“You can say that.” She responds. Her gaze has fallen to her burgundy doc martens and then she glances behind herself to see Blake and Liz walking towards them. Thank god. Blake rests his elbow on her shoulder and mumbles “what’s up,” while Maka shrugs him off and giggles slightly, looking for any distraction. 

“I see you’ve already introduced yourself Ma-” Maka’s eyes shoot a warning stare for Liz to shut the hell up about her name. It seems to confirm for Soul as he gives her a side glance, worry painted across his face. Her face feels hot, palms are sweating at the tension building between them and honestly she just wants a place to talk to him. She is not here for the pain in her chest or the hurt in his face. She wants to know if he’s okay. That’s all. Honestly she’d be fine if he can’t give her an answer to why he left in the first place, the previous anger has long ago reduced and she doubts and harm will come to the missing Evans boy tonight. His friends have started small talk and Blake has already fixed himself into arm wrestling Clay to which Maka rolls her eyes. Soul is aloof and she takes the time to dive in for the kill. 

“We need to talk.” She starts. Soul looks up at her and she hopes that her eyes read gentle to him because she’s not angry. She’s desperate for him to trust her, but that seems about it. There is panic written across his face and like a reflex her hand connects with his shoulder and a thousand words evolve from the reassuring gesture. She can feel him calm down enough to agree and stands, excusing to his bandmates that they should catch up as they move over to another booth. He walks forward where he wants to go and she follows after receiving a thumbs up from Liz and Smile from Blake. Her chest feels heavy but she refuses to let them know and smiles in return. It takes another moment to console herself before she turns to walk towards solitude with Soul.

 

The thick silence could kill. She can’t get the words to come out. Like she’s forgotten exactly what she came here for and the sudden urge to run out the door has popped into her mind. Deep breaths are taken and he’s patient because this isn’t easy. It’s a gesture Maka appreciates. 

“I wanna start off with I’m not mad. Okay?” It finally pours out of, her voice weak and slurred in the anxiety. He nods and she watches as his eyes scan to find a center of focus that is not her. She mirrors him, not being able to look. When she’s paused enough she continues.

“I’m not here to ask why you did it either. I really just wanted to make sure that you were okay.” And she’s honest. There was a lot of paranoia in her mind. Years of just wondering how he’s surviving nowadays and begging that it’s well. Regardless of being his ex or not she cares deeply for him, still.

“I’m not gonna ask for any apologies and quite frankly I don’t really want one.” At her words he glances up at her and they start conversation normally. She can feel the smart ass response in his eyes. It’s comforting that they can press on through the quiet. 

“I’m gonna always feel sorry.” Is his commentary, a small snort escapes her throat as she crosses her arms. Her lips purse into a frown because she’s not sure what to say from here. Everything she fantasized and practiced in her mind has gone down the drain. Her mind is clouded. 

“You don’t have to.” Is what she settles with. He frowns, visibly disagreeing with her but she’d rather not bicker about it. He falls back into silence and she gulps, glances around to find anything that she could save this conversation with. Especially when she pressed for it. Her eyes land on the occupied stage and his logo on the drum kit. A breathe in and out. This is salvageable. 

“How long have you been doing this?” She jerks her head towards the stage and watches as Soul’s eyes follow her movement. 

“Almost two tears. We barely started the original music part. It’s starting to kick off.” Maka smiles at the lopsided smirk on his face, a gesture that used to drive her crazy. Somehow it’s laced with sweet nostalgia.

“Your amazing.” Skips out, painting him darker than the red lighting. Maka feels her cheeks sting at the heat spreading through her face. Poor Soul was never good at receiving compliments. 

“Are you planning on recording anything?” She presses on. He shakes his head. 

“We recorded one. It’s on Soundcloud if you’re interested.” He meets her eyes for the first time, it makes Maka smile genuinely.

“Definitely.” She slumps back into the silence, a clock ticking in her head. Liz has filled in for her on the stage with Blake and she wishes to wrap up this ever awkward conversation. Soul’s eyes are shielded behind his hair. She lets out a hot breathe and goes in for the execution. Not opening Pandora's box. Smashing it.

“I saw you at the concert and a part of me just needed to know how you were.” His attention has returned to her, “I know it might sound strange years later but I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. It might be because you were there or that you left around this time.” He winces. Pain spreads through her chest. “Whatever it is. I guess I was just looking for some closure but I can respect if you don’t have it. It’s really weird. I know we’re still awkward and everything but I want to admit that I missed you, that I worried.” She bites her tongue back so that ‘I waited’ doesn’t spill out. Her heart is pounding in her ears. He sighs and opens slightly. Enough for her to peep into him. Enough for her to hold the door and wait for him to be ready.

“I missed you too, and I’m honestly really sorry that I didn’t explain. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to look back and I’m so fucking sorry because I never meant to hurt you.” She squirms at the pain in her chest and looks away, blinking rapidly to keep from crying. 

“It’s okay,” comes her reassurance. “You did what you needed. I’m happy for you. Don’t think you’ve ever been that happy on a stage and it’s a new look for you. A great one.’ She’s embarrassed him again. His neck flushed, ears red. 

“I-Soul I...” she covers her face with her palms, dragging cold finger down her face. The words have to escape because she’d die is she dismissed him from her life here. He hurt her. Hurt a lot but he also was a large part of her life. She can’t lose him again. She wants him in. Even as just mutual. As long as she can see him around from time to time. As long as she can still acknowledge and say “Hi.” 

It’s all she wants. 

“I miss you. And if you want, only if you do I’d like to be your friend. It may sound selfish to want you to reconnect with us since we surely serve as painful reminders but I truly feel like we can move on. That we can be okay again. You’re a part of me Soul.” Her eyes burn. She’s nauseous. The bass of Liz singing Misery Business matching her heart. She watches as he shifts in his seat. She hates to pry, really but it’s all she knows to do. Maybe if she minded her own business that night they wouldn’t have fought so harshly and he wouldn’t have left. She can't deny that she fueled him too. That she hurt him. 

‘Just watch my wildest dreams come true, not one of them involving you.’ 

Maka is due on the stage soon so she shifts to stand out of her seat. His voice cuts her. It’s gentle but it stings so bad. 

“Okay.” The word is short, his voice trembling but his eyes reassure the genuine of his statement. She smiles, cheeks burning and blinks to push back the tears. They’re not okay. Far from where they once were. It’s obvious that answers and anger need to be released before they can settle if they belong in each others lives or not, but those are battles she pushes away for a later time. Right now all that matters is that they can start again. 

“Do you wanna watch?” She invites and he nods, a grin painted on his face, fueling her happiness. 

His hand in hers complete her as she pulls him through the crowd to watch Akane play Kilik’s guitar solo. Even if he lets go like right now, she’ll be okay. There will always exist some optimism for the future. 

 

. . . 

(You can find the dance i’m talking about by searching “French Class Paramore Live” in youtube)

 

“This one is an old one but nonetheless good. Enjoy as we close out the night. Thanks for coming out. This is French Class.” Liz introduces as she runs to play drums alongside Clay. Maka stations herself in front of the mic. Tambourine in her hands as Soul starts the guitar riff. 

‘Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six... bonjour’ She sings in french, being the only fluent speaker here. Blake takes over for her as she dances around the stage, her energy back up after sharing small talk and smiles. 

“That night, you said baby, it's alright. And you couldn't tell, but I knew why. ‘Cause there was no more tears to cry!” 

‘I don't know what to do when on my own, waiting by the phone (bonjour)  
Ah damn, I don't wanna be there no more.’ Maka shakes her hips as he takes over the first chorus. 

“Cause I can't keep waiting for you. Waiting for you. No I can't keep waiting for you. Waiting for you!” She smiles and shakes over to steal Soul’s beanie and put it on before taking the rose glasses from Liz to put them on. Her smile is permanently on her face when he grins at her. 

‘’See that night, you said baby it's alright. And you couldn't tell, but I knew why. ‘Cause there was no more reasons why!” People stare as she holds out the note and dances to smile at Liz who moves her hands across the drums. 

“I don't know what to do when on my own. Sitting by the phone. Ah damn! Don't wanna be alone  
Just wanna be there with you! (bonjour)” At this point the crowd has locked eyes with Maka. She can feel the tension building but doesn’t care. This is far too much fun.

“I can't keep waiting for you. Waiting for you!” Blake gives her a thumbs up as she shakes her head, grooving with the beat.   
“I can't keep waiting for you. Waiting for you. No I can't keep waiting for you. Waiting for you!” She glances back to Blake, asking if he’s ready. He grins at her and unhooks his mic from the stand she mirrors him and draws out the last line. 

“I can't keep waiting for you. Waiting for you! One! Two! Three!” She shakes her hips to the right, then the left. Following by tilting her head back, arms in the air as the instrumental continues. Blake copies her. It’s a little dance they’ve done for the longest and her reason for this being her favorite song. It’s sad. The story relateable to her yet she can dance to this song. It was an inspiration for her After Laughter album. To Dance hard, cry harder. Who needs to worry about finishing it right now? Or about what people think of her. 

As long as Soul keeps smiling at her like that she can do anything.


End file.
